


The Braid That Holds My Heart

by unitedrepublicoffandom



Category: Carnival Row (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hair Braiding, Post-Season/Series 01, Touch-Starved, this is a self-indulgent hair fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unitedrepublicoffandom/pseuds/unitedrepublicoffandom
Summary: Vignette loosened her arms from around Philo’s waist, and ran one of her hands through his hair. He’d let it grow out since they were together again, looking more like their days in Tirnanoc.
Relationships: Rycroft Philostrate/Vignette Stonemoss
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80
Collections: GoodShit





	The Braid That Holds My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this idea out of my head since finishing the show, so I wrote it down. This is the first fic I have ever written. All mistakes are my own.

Vignette kept her head down as she walked through the muddy streets of the Row. In the months following the orders from the new Chancellor, the Row dove further into chaos and despair. With the flood of new Critch who would otherwise have lived in their Masters’ houses, the Row just didn’t have the space. Food and shelter were in short supply, with medicine almost impossible to come by. The Black Raven, out of work and stuck within the chained confines of the Row, still stirred up trouble. Vignette preferred to not cross paths with any of them, especially Dahlia.

She makes a left turn, eyes flicking back to check for anyone following her and carefully steps over Pucks lying asleep against the alley walls. She walks further down into the alley, up the rickety wooden stairs to Aisling’s dwelling.

After Philo had crossed the barbed fences into the Row and they reunited, they had moved quickly. Vignette had seen what happened to places overrun with refugees with no places to stay. All that time fighting the Pact, helping Fae flee their homeland, and here she was trapped by the Burguish. Philo had taken her hand and moved them through the swarm of Critch that were being forced into the Row, and had taken her to his mother’s apartment. They were lucky that it hadn’t been ransacked since her death. It was just the one room, cramped and dusty. But was something that they could make their own.

Tourmaline had ended up moving in with them a few days later. Since the humans could no longer enter the Row, the Tetterby Hotel became less of a brothel and more of a refuge. The rooms filing with Fae with no place to go.

Vignette knocked several times against the worn wooden door, before opening it to enter. They had found out pretty quickly once they had moved in that it was best to give a warning before entering. There had been a few close calls with knives, and a lot of new nicks in the door frame.

Philo was standing with his back to her, changing the song on the phonograph. She made her way towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Philo” she whispered.

He placed his arms over hers. “Any news from Moira?”

“She’s tense. She’s just not sure how long she can keep everyone looked after in the hotel. She’s been hearing rumours that the constabulary are still no closer to finding the members of that cult that killed the Chancellor. Everyone is getting more on edge. No one knows how long this is going to last Philo.” Her arms tighten around him. Gods they were so close to getting on that train.

Philo remained silent, staring out of the solitary apartment window. Music drifting softly from the phonograph. He leans back against her. She knew losing his job as Inspector affected him, even if he refuses to voice it out loud. With that fool Dombey leading the investigation nothing will get done. Philo had managed to get in touch with that timid constable friend of his. Berwick. He said that the Sergeant was spouting ridiculous theories that all the Critch races were behind the assassination, not just the Pucks.

Vignette finally noticed the silence hanging in the apartment. “Tourmaline?”

“She said she had a client, should be back in a couple hours.” While the Tetterby Hotel stopped being a hotel of pleasures, Madame Moira didn’t stop her work. Bribes were paid, Fae snuck in and out of the Row, servicing the rich men who publicly hated them, but privately enjoyed them. Coin didn’t get you much in the Row now, food was the currency. Tourmaline was still able to earn some coin and bring back whatever food she could carry from the rich foolish humans.

Vignette loosened her arms from around Philo’s waist, and ran one of her hands through his hair. He’d let it grow out since they were together again, looking more like their days in Tirnanoc. All those years she’d missed touching him. She was doing her best to make up for it now, but it could never be enough. She traced her fingers through the hair behind his left ear, fingers playing with the beads that now rested at the ends.

* * *

“I want you to protect them again”. Vignette pulled the beaded string from her braids and held it up to Philo. He rolled over on his side and slowly lifted his hand to take them.

“Are you sure? After what I put you through….” His voice rough with emotion. Guilt, regret, sadness. All those years they were separated.

“I was certain when I gave them to you in Tirnanoc. And I am certain now. You carried them with you for 7 years Philo. You are my home. You always will be.”

Philo sat up; bed covers pooling around his waist. Eyes focused on the beaded string resting his in palm. Shiny eyes then caught her own.

“I want you to braid it in. I don’t want to ever be apart from it. I always want to carry you with me.”

“Oh Philo. I will always be with you. We found each other again.” Her voices catches. “We are home”

Vignette moves to sit up behind Philo on the bed. Both naked, the cool breeze coming in through the window. He had started to grow out his hair. She starts threading her fingers through his locks, pulling the brown strands around the nape of his neck together. Her fingers still.

“Vignette?”

She remembers her widow’s braid. How it sat at the nape of her neck. How it was an easy target, often yanked at when she fought against the Pact.

“Not here. It could be pulled too easily. Used against you”

“Behind my ear then”

Vignette starts again, tugging the strands right above his left ear, starting a small but tight braid, her fingers twirling, weaving the beaded string through the strands. She feels his body relax as she works. His back slumping slightly.

“Is this what my mother would have done for me?”

She pauses. “She may have”. Not all Fae place meaning in their braids or the beads in them. Tourmaline never had any. But up in the snowy mountains of Tirnanoc, beads held history and meaning.

Vignette finishes the braid and ties it so it won’t come loose. She leans closer to inspect her work. The small braid curves around Philo’s ear and down. Her reddish beads grazing against the skin on his neck. He could easily style his hair to hide the braid if he needed to.

Philo reached back and gently traced his fingers over the finished braid. Vignette watches his back muscles flex as he does it. Moving the phantom wings that he can still feel. The pain that’s always there.

She presses a kiss to his shoulder.

* * *

Philo finally losing interest in whatever held his attention out the window, turns around in her arms. Their chests now touching. She resumes running her hand through his hair, over the braid that is starting to dangle past his shoulder. Longer now. She had rebraided it for him several times since that night. She can feel his eyes boring in to her. But she is too captivated by the light catching on the red beads in his hair.

There’s a sudden rap of three knocks on the door, before bright blue hair bursts through.

“Oh goodness there you are. Stop standing there being so in love and help me cook. You won’t believe what I always able to snatch from this pompous prick’s house.”

Vignette smiles. She turns her attention back to the Fae in her arms. A soft smile on his face and he watches Tourmaline flit around the apartment. Their family.

He looks back down at her, closing his eyes he rests his forehead against her own.

They were going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me @buckystilinski if you want to scream about season 2 headcannons.


End file.
